


GETTING OVER HIM

by BellaGracie



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Role Reversal, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaGracie/pseuds/BellaGracie
Summary: Age-gap EverlarkKatniss is 32, Peeta is 24.Plot: BOY MEETS GIRL, BOY LOSES GIRL, GIRL GOES CRAZY (FOR A WHILE), BOY MEETS GIRL AGAIN.Trigger Warning: there will be a period of time after Katniss and Peeta have broken up, where I will be showing them with OTHER people. (No it will not be Peeta / Enobaria). I want to give them plenty of time to figure things out in their heads. The ending is, always, Everlark.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Rory Hawthorne
Comments: 116
Kudos: 36





	1. MEETING

**Author's Note:**

> Katniss point of view

Today was the first day that I've started to feel human again. Peeta and me broke up six months ago, and it still hurts. I was eight years older than him (32 to his 24) and we were different in every way.

I'm a small-town girl from Washington State, and he's New York-born and bred. He served six months in Afghanistan, and I'm staunchly anti-war, a feminist liberal. Being a feminist and having a younger boyfriend -- those two are not mutually exclusive, but now I think they should have been.

About a month before we broke up, I started entertaining daydreams about getting married and having kids. With him. I really did.

We met at Prim's wedding. He was the plus-one of Gloss, one of Prim's friends. At the time, I just assumed he and Gloss were together, so other than noting he was really handsome, I didn't have much conversation with him.

Sometime during the reception, I got really drunk. Somehow, I don't remember how, Peeta and I ended up talking. I told him about my ex, Gale, who'd left me for our next-door neighbor, Madge. I still see both of them on a daily basis, because apartments are hard to find in San Francisco. Sometimes I even hear them having sex! Of course I'm depressed.

It turned out Peeta didn't really know Gloss very well. They used to be classmates at some college back East, and then Gloss moved out here and began moving in Prim's social circle. He'd come out years ago, but was between boyfriends. On a whim he asked Peeta, who'd recently moved to San Francisco and lived in the same apartment building near the Embarcadero, to be his plus-one. Peeta was a good sport and said okay. Peeta was between girlfriends, too. He found it a relief to be chatting with me because Gloss was starting to get too attentive and Peeta wasn't interested. "I'm not bi," he explained sheepishly.

Long story short, I ended up bringing Peeta home with me that night for what I thought would be a one-night stand ( _Cradle snatcher_! I thought, but quelled her misgivings). We had had amazing sex. I came three times, at least. The next day, Peeta seemed reluctant to leave, and I found I didn't want him to, either. The one night stand lasted a year and a half.


	2. THE FREAK OUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be hard (or maybe not really, depending on your level of tolerance for Everlark break-ups), but I promise not to drag this out too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss point of view again

In the end, Peeta left me for some immature bull-shit. He's a dog trainer (he's really an artist, but getting paying artist gigs is hard, and his fancy artsy college back east -- Tufts, which he says has a really good arts program, but might be a tad over-rated -- didn't help him network enough) and one of his clients, who lives in a swanky townhouse south of Market (which is where all San Francisco artists live after they've made it), invited him to go with her to Vegas. Her name was Enobaria.

Anyway, this Enobaria, who was famous for her kitschy collages (The San Francisco Chronicle called her "the female Jeff Koons") had a three-level townhouse on Russ Street (It had a yellow Volkswagen Beetle hanging upside down from the ceiling of the stairwell, Peeta told me). She owned two Dalmatians, and hired Peeta to walk them every day. She paid him well, and Peeta and she had a lot in common (they were both artists, after all!). She must have given him a line about helping him exhibit some of his work (He's a really good painter, I know I'm biased but it's true). I noticed her name would slip into his conversation, more and more.

One day, she gave a cocktail reception at her home, to celebrate the opening of a new exhibit of her work in the Crocker Galleria, and she invited Peeta, who brought me. I was suitably dazzled by her home, but not by Enobaria herself, who seemed to have a proprietary attitude toward my boyfriend.

Somehow, she let it be known that she knew I was MUCH older (Peeta had told her?), and she kept giving me side-eye. I didn't know how old this Enobaria was, but she had two teen-aged children, and even if she'd had them both at 18, that would make her at least 12 years older than Peeta.

Anyway, when Peeta told me she'd invited him to go to Las Vegas with her (not just the two of them; apparently, she had chartered an entire plane for her friends, and Peeta's relationship with her had evolved from him being just a dog-walker to him being considered an actual friend), my nerve endings immediately went on high alert. Peeta, my sweet Peeta, was angry that I seemed suspicious, and that I suspected Enobaria's motives.

"She's just a friend, Katniss," he said wearily to me one night. We'd been arguing, into the wee hours. I could barely get up for work the next day (I'm an administrative assistant in Heavensbee & Mason, an architectural firm, and both my bosses -- Plutarch Heavensbee and Johanna Mason -- have won prestigious design awards). That night, when I got home from work, Peeta told me he'd decided to accept Enobaria's invitation, and I lost my shit and started throwing things.

Let me just say, in the year and a half that Peeta and I were together, he never strayed, not once. He never looked at another woman, even though women came on to him all the time (Come on, someone who looked like him, walking dogs? Chick magnet!). He always made it clear to me that he was in love with me and thought the world of me. And we had amazing chemistry in bed.

I'd been sort of a prude, even after three years with Gale. Gale wasn't the most imaginative of lovers, he always wanted to have sex in the same position, and sometimes he didn't care if he got me off or not (which is why, having to listen to him and Madge sometimes drives me wild. Madge definitely gets off, every time). Peeta, on the other hand, was endlessly patient with me, especially in the beginning. And it turned out he really liked going down on me, which was something I wasn't used to but soon became addicted to.

So when Peeta said he was accepting Enobaria's invitation to go to Vegas with her friends, I yelled that he was just an immature boy who thought with his cock, and then I cried and locked him out of our bedroom. And that, my friends, was the beginning of the end.


	3. WHILE HE'S IN VEGAS

A month later, he's gone. Well, technically not gone, just gone to Vegas with Enobaria's entourage. I don't want him to talk about it, I just shut down. When I come back from work on a Friday, he's not there. I knew it was this weekend, but I wasn't quite prepared for the FACT of his absence.

Peeta's gone somewhere without ME. That's something I never expected to happen, not while we were in a relationship. I still can't believe how determined he was. But that's my fault for choosing someone eight years younger than me. He has to sow his wild oats, and all that. But I didn't think he would do it while he was in a relationship with _me_.

So, are we broken up? I check to see whether he's left a few things behind, and he has. He's left almost all his clothes, in fact. I'm so relieved, I bury my face in one of his shirts. It has that Peeta smell, that ineffable Peeta essence that smells of young man and -- baking?

Yes, that's the other thing about Peeta -- he loved baking. How weird is that for a 24-year-old. Whoever gets him after me will be so lucky, I used to think. Now I just think, whoever gets him will be lucky. I used to hope that would be me.

But he's just beginning on his journey. How many girlfriends has he had before me? Just one, I think. Or one that he's told me about. Her name was Lavinia. She was a redhead, had nice skin. They were together a year.

So now I'm home by myself, on a weekend. It feels weird. I have to hunt around for my vibrator, I haven't used it in almost two years. After a half-hour of fruitless looking, I stop. I don't want to pleasure myself alone. It seems like too much of a glimpse into my (undoubtedly lonely) future, without Peeta.

I decide against calling Prim, I haven't called her much since Peeta and I started living together. I have no idea what she thinks of me going for someone so much younger, though she hasn't said a word. She's really happy being married, I can tell.

The worst thing is that Gale and Madge are constantly doing it. I haven't banged on the wall yet, but one of these days I'm bound to do it.

I replay my last conversation with Gale: he blamed my "mood swings," my what he called "constant bitchiness." I wonder if Gale and Madge heard me and Peeta arguing that night. They probably did. They probably heard me throwing things.

Saturday night, I'm restless. I decide to get dressed up and go to a bar. What would Peeta say?

No, Katniss, he's not your boyfriend anymore. He's probably having a great time in Vegas, fucking some bimbo. Or Enobaria. Go and get a drink. You deserve it.

But even the thought of fucking someone other than Peeta brings tears to my eyes. What is wrong with me? How did I fall into this rut?

I need therapy! I used to have a therapist I saw once a week, and she helped me through the break-up with Gale, but after a few months she kept pushing Xanax on me, and I didn't like it. I decide to stay home, but to compensate I uncork a bottle of red wine I'd been saving for a special occasion.

I decide to make an appointment for a haircut. I shop for groceries (Do I even remember how to do that? Peeta did all the food shopping for the both of us). At the Safeway, I pick up a box of chocolate chip cookie dough. I try hard not to think of the future.


	4. SUNDAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss still in flashback mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this little flash-in-the-pan.

The Sunday he was in Vegas, I had a bad dream and rolled over to grab Peeta, but he wasn't there. I felt tears spring to my eyes and thought, for the nth time since Friday: What was wrong with me? Could I really have fallen that hard -- for a 24-year-old? Me, capable me, who hated feeling dependent on anyone, even when I was with Gale?

I had a sloppy dinner the night before (I didn't remember making it); there were gummed up plates in the sink. Honestly, I had no idea what it was I ate. Next to the sink was an empty bottle of red wine. Had I really consumed that all by myself? Guess so.

I decided to do something "mature" and "adult": I decided to clean the apartment. I started with the kitchen. It didn't take long.

I decided to walk off my malaise. I put on ratty sneakers, jogging pants and a hoodie, and headed towards the Bay Bridge. It was only a few blocks away, and the sight always used to thrill me. That's what happens when you grow up in a town in Washington state, a town of 20,000 people. Peeta would ask me what I did on weekends when I was in high school, as though it were any different from what _he_ did on weekends. Oh wait, why was I thinking of Peeta? I couldn't always be thinking of Peeta! He was off in Vegas waking up next to a strange woman, I knew. Or maybe waking up next to Enobaria.

I adjusted my airbuds and listened to some really relaxing white noise: Still, I kept thinking of Peeta and the music he liked. For a 24-year-old, he had surprisingly strange taste in music: I was horrified to learn he liked the Biebs. I introduced him to the Foo Fighters.

I had to force myself to stop thinking about Peeta! I decided to pick up the pace, make myself sweat.

By the time I got back to the apartment, I'd run two miles. Sweat was pouring off me. God, that felt good! I was also very, very hungry. I'd been checking my phone and there were no texts but suddenly, just after I stepped in the door of the apartment, my phone pinged and I saw I'd missed a text from Peeta. I felt sheer euphoria.

I saw he'd sent sent it at 10:30 a.m., almost an hour earlier. I hadn't heard it, I was running and then I was looking at the Bay Bridge and letting its magnificence wash over me. But I was very, very excited to get this text.

I decided to make him sweat a little. I successfully kept from texting him back for another hour. Instead, I forced myself to imagine getting back on OK Cupid or Tinder. I tried to remember the successful dates I'd had in the past, after Gale and before Peeta. There were only two or three dates I remembered. One was with a woman, which was my first time to try it. It just hadn't worked for me. She was sort of aggressive and needy. I think her name was Leevy. She was a sloppy kisser . . .

My phone pings. I check: it's Peeta again. I squeeze my eyes shut until I can feel tears leaking at the corners. I'm scared, suddenly. What is happening to me? Since when does talking to Peeta make me scared?

His text is an innocuous "How are you?"

I stare at it for a few minutes and chew on my lip. Why is he texting me? Is he doing it out of guilt? Where'd he go last night? And the night before? I never thought to ask because, well, it would make me look as if I were keeping tabs on him. As if it wasn't already humiliating enough that he was eight years younger than me.

I take a deep breath. He has one more night in Vegas. I decide to text back a dignified "Hey there! Enjoying yourself?"


	5. MOPING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Katniss point of view

So that's it, I think, looking with horror at my phone. Peeta and I just ended our relationship. And it wasn't even face to face. I asked him if he was enjoying Vegas, and he hedged. Of course he's enjoying Vegas! What a silly question! But I shouldn't have made him feel guilty for enjoying Vegas. He IS 24, after all.

In the meantime, I'm 32. And my ovaries aren't getting any younger.

The phone drops from my nerveless fingers. I collapse on the couch. I think of all the times Peeta would text "How's your day going, Beautiful." That was his name for me: Beautiful. Someone called me Beautiful for the last year and a half of my life. But not anymore. We are over. It hurts so bad.

I guess I was stupid for letting myself imagine we were going to marry and start a family. When I started bringing it up -- oh, maybe a few months ago -- he said, "I'm not completely opposed to marriage, it doesn't mean I don't want kids." It wasn't out-and-out enthusiasm, but it wasn't a "NEVER" either. My mistake was allowing myself to hope. The thing is, by the time I started having those daydreams, I knew I was in love with Peeta. I was in love with him the way I'd never been in love with Gale. Was I too pushy? Yes, yes, I was. But at some point, I realized I couldn't give up that dream, even if it meant not being with the man I loved. I tried to push the thoughts away. And I hadn't brought them up again. But I realized, after Peeta and i fought, that pushing the thoughts away doesn't mean they're gone; it only means they fester. And the festering was what made me blow up when he told me about Enobaria's invitation to go to Vegas with her and her friends.

And now it's been over six months.

Peeta came on Monday, waited for me to get back from work, and told me he thought he should move out. I didn't say much, I pretended I could take it on the chin, but I still can't stop thinking of him.

My bosses, Haymitch and Johanna, see the change. They're not the type to pry; they've met Peeta a couple of times: we've had office receptions and the like, and I always, always brought Peeta. He was handsome and charming and wow-ed the entire office -- particularly the ladies. It actually made it so much easier to be ME. I began to loosen up a little, laugh, crack a few jokes. Johanna and Haymitch raised my salary, actually put me in charge of the big annual conference, and I loved putting panels together and arranging tours for the out-of-towners. All of this happened while I was with Peeta.

How have the last six months gone for me? Well, for one thing, I can't sleep. Drinking wine used to make it easier, but now it has the opposite effect -- it just makes me more awake. And then I hear every moan and thump from Gale and Madge's side of the wall. They can keep it up all night long. It's brutal. And sometimes -- I really, really want to text Peeta.

But what can I say? _I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I shouldn't have accused you of having hot, passionate sex with someone else while you were in Vegas. I'm sorry I thought we would go on forever. I thought I'd finally get the life I'd always wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this very fast, haven't plotted out anything. I assure you, Katniss will eventually get over this period of her life. She will MOVE ON! Because she is a fighter.
> 
> And, eventually, she and Peeta will bump into each other again.


	6. GUILT IS OVER-RATED

Guilt is a luxury. This is something I've been telling myself for six months. For six months I've been beating myself up for the way I talked to Peeta about Vegas. I know I sounded like an immature child. No, I WAS an immature child. Peeta was so much younger than me (although, to be frank, he always acted as if he were OLDER. Which is why I fell in love with him), and I was the one who ended up acting like an immature child.

At some point, I decided to stop trying to numb my feelings by drinking and watching _The Batchelorette_. I started seeing my therapist again, and she prescribed a couple of behavior modification exercises that I found were really helpful. Slowly, I started being able to sleep better at night.

But the thing that really cured me of my Peeta fixation was the night I went bar-hopping with Johanna. Yes, my boss Johanna Mason was concerned enough about my mental and emotional state (and about my declining office performance) that she suggested a fun, laid-back girls' night out. I took her up on her offer, and found her surprisingly easy to talk to after a couple of drinks.

"What you need, dear girl, is a night of really hot sex," she told me, and immediately began scrolling through her cell.

"What are you doing?" I drawled. My words were coming out funny, and I'm not sure she even heard me.

She continued scrolling and then she said, "Aha!" and held her phone up to my face. There was a face on her screen. I did a sharp intake of breath.

"Who is THAT?" I said, slowly, feeling an all-too-familiar warmth spreading to my loins.

"That," said Johanna, with a triumphant smile, "is Finnick Odair, my first cousin who isn't above fucking me. And he happens to be currently single. I'd do him if I didn't think it would make me feel dirty. He's a sweetheart. I'll text him right now. I also happen to know he's clean. He's a bit of a hypochondriac and gets tested weekly for the whole panel of STDs. Helps that his mother's one of the most brilliant doctors in UCSF."

"Johanna," I said, swallowing hard. "I really don't need -- "

But she was already shrugging me off and texting him. "Finnick's better than a dating app," she muttered to herself. "And besides, you need someone to make you feel terrific about yourself and I'm sorry, 90% of the guys on Tinder are gross."


	7. WHAT HAPPENED IN VEGAS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback: Peeta point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who was right? Katniss or Peeta?
> 
> We are about to find out.
> 
> Sorry for the super-short updates, but I'm just making it up as I go along.

I'm flying to Vegas today, for three nights. I'm in a chartered plane, which is packed with Enobaria's friends. This morning, I waited until Katniss left for work, showered, called an Uber, and got out the door.

Now I'm at the airport. My stomach feels unsettled. I really have no idea what I'm doing. All I know is: I'm 24 years old. I'm a painter whose day job is dog-walking. It's a dead-end job. I have a great girlfriend. I am not lonely, I am not "looking." But, judging from Enobaria and her friends, everyone else is looking for sex. Or maybe that's not fair. Maybe they're all just lonely and looking for a relationship.

The plane Enobaria chartered was full. The guests were all older than me. I didn't know why Enobaria invited me, but I was curious. A few of the women kept eyeing me. I'll have to figure out how to deal. I don't want to be rude.

A few days ago, Enobaria asked me if I was 'clean.' I pretended I didn't understand, said something about always being careful with the dogs, never so much as smoked a joint, not while I'm with a client's dogs, etc. She asked me where I grew up and when I said New York City, she said, "I love New York City!" I saw a shift in her expression. "Well," I blushed. "Brooklyn, actually."

"Brooklyn's nice," Enobaria said. "I've exhibited there."

"Oh, at the Museum?" I said, awed.

"No, silly," Enobaria laughed. "In a gallery. Have you heard of Galapagos?"

I sure have. It's a gallery by day, a burlesque joint by night. The floor is clear glass over a huge pond filled with carp. I attended a show there one night, at the invitation of a friend. It was wild.

"How long ago?" I asked, and could have kicked myself when Enobaria's face soured a bit.

"Oh, a few years ago," Enobaria said. "I sold all my paintings."

"Wow," I said.

* * *

The flight was short. Now I'm getting my bearings. Enobaria had rented a couple of limos to take us to the Strip. She'd kept our hotel a big surprise. When our limos headed to the end of the Strip, everyone whooped. We were staying at the Mandalay Bay!

I got really excited. It was huge, I'd heard from people there was a wave beach. I decide to text Katniss and send her pictures. Maybe she and I can come back here together one day.

Enobaria booked all our rooms on the same floor. Mine, hers, and a few others share a living room. When I look out the windows, I get dizzy. The man-made beach looks absolutely inviting, but very far away. Around it are palm trees, cabañas, and canvas lounging chairs. I definitely need to bring Katniss here.

We changed into swimwear, eager to get down to the pool.

* * *

I'm poolside. I've just spotted a large bar in the middle of the largest pool. It's the kind where you swim up, and they float your drink out to you, on little flower-shaped trays.

The two women who're next to me are Enobaria's friends. I think their names are Viveca and Jobina. Something like that. One still has a streak of white right under her nose. Her eyes look glassy. I edge away.


	8. THE LIMO RIDE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Peeta's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a deep breath. Peeta DOES get out of the situation.

Enobaria asks me if I'm game for cruising up and down the Strip with her in a limo. I ask about the others but she says no, they're off doing their own thing. I admit I find this a little suspect but I don't want to show her I'm nervous or afraid. I say, Sure! with what I hope is the right measure of nonchalance.

The limo swings past Caesar's Palace. Now we're heading up the Bellagio's driveway. Enobaria's sitting very close to me and I can tell she wants to kiss me. I pretend to be very interested in the famous fountains, which (fortunately for me) choose that moment to erupt into an auto-tuned Cher hit. I go, _Will you look at that!_ And keep my face practically plastered on the car window. The driver stops in front of the main entrance and for a moment I'm confused.

"Well, come on," Enobaria says, taking my. hand. "There's something I want to show you."

We walk hand in hand to the lobby and then she stops and waves at the ceiling. I look up and -- _oh my God! That is the most gorgeous ceiling I have ever seen!_ Flowers of every imaginable color, covering every inch of space.

"Is this --" I start. "Don't tell me. I know. It's Dale Chihuly."

"That's right," Enobaria says, giving me an indulgent smile. Then she gives my hand a tug. "There's something else I want to show you." We walk past an animatronic exhibit with half-human, half-monkey figures. We thread past blackjack tables and jangling slot machines and a fountain made out of pure chocolate. We reach a bank of elevators.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my nerves jangling.

"Up," Enobaria says. "There's something I want to show you."

She stands very close to me in the elevator and _shit! I knew this was a bad idea_. Not just right now, with Enobaria, but the whole trip. Katniss was right. 

Enobaria stands right behind me and presses up against me. My stomach pitches. Her body is warm and strong, and I realize this is what everything had been building up to. I start to panic: Where is she taking me? Is there a room with a massive waterbed, mirrors on the ceiling? I take a step forward, away from her.

"What's the matter?" she says. "Don't you feel it? We have chemistry."

I emit a forced laugh (I've never given this kind of laugh in my whole life; in fact, to my ears it sounds more like a bark) "Don't get me wrong -- " I say. But she suddenly winds her arms around my waist and starts trying to undo my pants.

What? Right here? In the elevator? I glance quickly at the ceiling. I know these places have cameras everywhere.

"No," I say, just as the elevator stops. We have arrived. TA-RA! Here we are at the Penthous suite. Did she book this room specially -- for us?

I don't move a muscle. Enobaria gives me a little push to get out of the elevator, but I don't budge. She sighs. "Okay, we can do it right here if you want . . . " I jam my fist on the Down button and the elevator doors close.

* * *

That was a very uncomfortable limo ride back to Mandalay Bay. It was bizarre, and my nerve endings felt like they'd been scraped with knives. I tried to sit as far from Enobaria as I could, now and then glancing at the limo driver, who was this big black man, big enough to be a bouncer. I wondered how I was going to avoid all physical contact with Enobaria -- _for the next two days_. Should I just brazen it out, pretend it didn't absolutely unnerve me, just to prove how cool I was? Neither of us said a word as we rode the elevator back up to our floor. As soon as we reached our suite, I headed straight for my room and curled up under the bedcovers. I had a very fitful night.

I managed to fall asleep for a few hours. When I opened my eyes, there was someone sleeping next to me in the bed, and I started to freak out. I saw it was Viveca, the coke head. I quickly headed for the bathroom and took a long shower.

I went into this thinking it would be a fun weekend, but I was wrong, so wrong, and I suddenly realized why I was brought to Vegas in the first place.

When I saw Enobaria, I tried to chat as normally as possible, just to show her there were no hard feelings on my part, we could still be friends. Right? The other people in our suite -- two women and one older man -- were clearly nursing massive hangovers. I suddenly decided that this whole thing was a waste of time and I should just get a ride to the airport. Suddenly, Enobaria moved up to me and put a hand over mine. I looked at her face, and it was full of apology. "I'm sorry, Peeta," she said. "I shouldn't have tried to do that. I hope -- can you forgive me?"

And now -- I can't believe we got to Sunday! I'd be seeing Katniss in just one more night! I really just wanted to talk to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I had to give Peeta his very own #metoo moment. But, in this, he's still too much of a nice guy (or maybe he's too much of a desperate guy) to call Enobaria out, which you and I know was the wrong decision. Peeta isn't thinking straight: he feels humiliated, but is still trying to salvage shreds of his pride. And he just feels . . . alone . . . surrounded by her friends. And he doesn't want anyone laughing at him.


	9. GETTING BACK IN THE SWIM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss -- Six months after the break-up (Essentially, where she was in Chapter 1)

It was Prim who made me re-activate my OK Cupid and Tinder profiles. "Come on, Kat," she insisted. "You can't just spend every weekend binge-watching something. You have to get back out in the swim."

Easy for her to say. She's happily married to Octavia, who she met and fell in love with at UC Berkeley. I don't think she's ever been as happy as she is now, and I've known her 26 years.

I remember the days after I found out about Gale's infidelity -- days I'd wake up exhausted, plagued by nightmares. I remember a long period of dating, terrible sex, and general numbness. Now, after Peeta, it feels like I'm beginning that cycle again. Only much worse.

Oh, occasionally Peeta will text -- usually innocuous messages like: How's life been treating you?

I force myself never to answer. It doesn't mean I don't wake up every morning wanting to speak to him.

The few kisses I've had with other people since Peeta have not made me enthusiastic about, quoting Prim, "getting back in the swim." I managed to turn down Johanna's offer of her handsome (if a bit promiscuous first cousin ) Finnick. I felt that if I did go out with him, I'd become needy again, the way I was with Peeta.

For a while, I only agreed to go out with unattractive men. That way, I thought I could retain some measure of dignity and not fall as hard as I did with Peeta.

Summer came, and I went crazy for a while, literally having sex with men I didn't like because I could detach, it was safe.

At the end of summer, I did settle on one guy: Romulus. He was in his late 40s. I eventually discovered he had a mean streak. By the time I'd discovered that aspect of him, I'd been seeing him exclusively for a month.

That was when the shoe dropped and I found out that Gale and Madge were engaged. They'd been together three years since then, which was as long as Gale and I had been together. That was when I had to fight hardest not to call Peeta. I managed not to, but it took everything I had.

I threw myself ferociously into work. The annual design conference, hosted every year by the firm of Heavensbee & Mason, would be held in the last week of October. I worked and worked and worked, reserving venues, finalizing the schedule of presentations, designing the program.

The conference went off without any major hitches. I heaved a big sigh of relief. Time to treat myself to a little vacation, I decided. Maybe Cancun? Just as I was on the point of booking my flight, I got another text from Peeta. I almost collapsed.


	10. NOT SO LONELY NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Katniss point of view
> 
> Nothing happens in this chapter. Absolutely nothing! But, at least, Katniss isn't as mope-y.

No, dear readers. I did not text Peeta back, not even then, when every fiber of my being said, GO ON, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

So here I am, another lonely Saturday ahead of me. I wake up a little later than I normally do: 8 a.m. I ease myself into the day with a roundup from someone I just started following on Instagram. The funny roundups are just too good to miss. I get up, shower, and get dressed for work. Which, being Saturday, means the work I have to do for Prim.

Prim and Octavia started this thing about six months ago. They do free-lance PR. They have a few regulars, a surprising number of which are fashion start-ups. They have good ideas, but they're a little disorganized, and their accounting was a mess. Needing to take my mind off Peeta, I offered to keep their books, to which they readily agreed. So now, every weekend, I go over their accounts. And they have been super-grateful. They insisted on paying me, even though I would have done it for free. Now I have a little extra money, which I use whenever I want to treat myself to a spa day. Not that I've felt very motivated, even to get myself moving to the spa which is just three blocks away. It's cold; wind whips down San Francisco streets something awful. I'm happy curled up on the couch all day. When I get hungry, I dip down to the corner grocery, grab bags of chips, a couple of tubs of yogurt. Yes, I have very healthy eating habits. I've sworn off men for awhile. Haven't checked my dating apps in weeks.

I've been hard at work for a few hours when I get a message on WhatsApp. It's from Rory, Gale's younger brother. He's Gale's Best Man, and has dropped by Gale's and Madge's apartment a couple of times. The last two times, though, Gale and Madge weren't home. I heard him knocking fruitlessly on their door, and finally came out and asked him if he would please stop, it was a Saturday after all. Saturday MORNING, I pointed out. Couldn't he just text them? He blushed, and it was adorable. He then got a text from Gale that he and Madge would be back home in about an hour. So I ended up inviting Rory to wait in my apartment. I know, I know. Rory is six years younger. Maybe Peeta started something . . . me and younger men. But please, not RORY! I've known Rory for years!

Still, we ended up chatting until Gale got home. He's sweet, funny, and clever. Not nearly as tight-assed as Gale. He works in UCSF on Parnassus, and sometimes shows up after a shift, still in his scrubs. I do not know how this started, but it's nice to have company. And Rory and I are just friends. He has to duck when Gale's home, though, and he never makes a sound. Just crashes on the couch. He says it's better than Hazelle's basement. And at least I don't bug him.

Rory's like some kind of Yoda. The Yoda of Platonic Male Friends. He wants to know about Peeta (who he's heard about from Gale, though he and Peeta never met). He tells me things like, "You'll find love again. But remember, it's okay to have fun along the way."

I wave him off. "Love!" I say. "I'm over that."

"You're too young to be such a cynic," Rory says, which always makes me laugh.

Now, Rory says he's going for a run along the Embarcadero. Would I care to keep him company? I glance at my watch. I've been working on Prim's accounts for three hours without a break. It'll be good to get out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Katniss is getting her life back on track, right? Amirite?
> 
> And Gale probably knows his younger brother is crashing in Katniss's apartment. Maybe Rory should move in with Katniss? This relationship is purely platonic. OK, maybe Rory has a crush on Katniss. But he wouldn't make a move, he's not like that.


	11. PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in Katniss's point of view.
> 
> Again, nothing happens, sorry.

For the first time ever, I have a platonic relationship with a man. After a short but intense period of trying a different hook-up every week, I think I've gone back to being a prude. Also, work MATTERS again.

At this stage, my desire for love and lust have gone so far down, they're almost non-existent. It's fine with me not to sleep with anyone for a while. I'm figuring things out. And I haven't felt the slightest inclination to check a dating app.

One of the nights when Rory slept over, he told me he wanted to write a book. I can't pretend this didn't make me a little wistful, remembering Peeta and his painting. Peeta wanted to make it as an artist. I hope he still has that desire. I hope whatever it is he's trying to figure out doesn't involve losing his dreams.

Whatever I've been thinking must show on my face because Rory says a soft, "Hey" and "Where'd you go?"

I glance at him, a little disoriented, and then when I realize what must have happened, I give a little laugh. "It's nothing," I say. "What kind of a book do you want to write?"

So he starts telling me. He's got all the major plot points figured out. It's a little too science-fictiony for me to follow. But I say, "I'm sure a lot of people will want to read it."

"No," Rory says. "It's boring. I can tell by your face."

He watches my face so carefully! I clear my throat and say, "I'm sorry. I'm really not much of a reader."

"Liar," Rory says. "There's a whole pile of books by your bed."

I stare because, honestly, I never knew Rory had seen the inside of my bedroom. He's been sleeping on the folded-out couch. And this does make me a little uncomfortable. "Hey," I say, wanting to change the topic suddenly. "Chocolate muffins? I was in Whole Foods yesterday."

His face goes a little blank, so I take that for a yes and walk to the kitchen. I open the box the muffins came in, and I start searching around for plates -- because I'm going to put one muffin on one plate, and serve it that way. Formal. Only I just can't seem to decide whether to use a dessert plate or a salad plate. I have both kinds. Weird, I know. A plate is a plate. "These are delicious!" I call out from the kitchen. "Wait till you try these!"

"Yes," Rory calls out. "I can't wait to try them. I haven't shopped in Whole Foods in ages."

I bring out two plates: one for Rory, and one for me. He looks at his plate; I look at my plate. We pick up our forks, and then we eat.


	12. SAD SATURDAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Katniss's point of view

Rory sleeps on the fold-out bed. When I wake up, I don't really register that he's gone until I head to the kitchen and start washing last night's dishes. Two dishes. One for each of us. Two chocolate muffins. Two forks. I stop, my hands soapy and slick.

I drop the dishes with an impatient grunt. Time to go for a run. The thoughts I'm having . . . are not good thoughts.

I thought I'd been doing pretty well, the last few months. I'd stopped checking for new texts from Peeta. I'd put him behind me, or I thought I had.

I head back to my bedroom and pick up my phone. It's always there, beside my bed. I start scrolling through the messages. All the messages. As far back as six months ago. In fact, there aren't that many. I've deleted almost all of them, except the ones from Peeta.

His texts are funny. No pleading quality, no sentimental "I miss you." In fact, some of them even make me laugh. And, just like that, a deep core of longing opens up inside me.

Oh no! Should I start looking on Tinder again? But it would be so awkward. What would I say to RORY?

My running sneakers are in my hand. I lay them gently down on the floor, lie back on the bed, and ask myself, _what I am doing?_

Last night's conversation with Rory. Was that . . . NORMAL? There was something in his eyes. Does he like me? NO! How do I respond? I'm supposed to be taking a break from men. What is happening? How do I respond to Rory? Ugh, I've messed up. AGAIN.

Does Rory think I'm easy, because of the way I let him in? Does he think we'll have sex? Because I've never entertained the thought of having sex with Rory. One relationship with a much younger man, and I've sworn off them forever.

I'm still lying on my bed at 12 noon. It's my stomach that tells me how much time has passed. It growls. I need to work. I need to get started on Prim's accounts.

My cell pings. The text says: "Hey there! How are ya?" For a few seconds I go blank and think it's Peeta. But of course it isn't. It's Rory. For the first time ever, I don't know how to respond.

Rory is sweet. He doesn't ask me for anything. Answer him, woman! Answer him! If you take too long, he'll think something's up. He knows I'm working on Prim's stuff. _Should be_ working on Prim's stuff. But what tone do I take? Because sex with RORY is not on the table and never will be. I'm suddenly in a sweat.

I settle on a series of smiley emojis, then say I'm going to be out the rest of the day, I'm going to go with a friend to Muir Woods. After I send the message, I calm down. There are no further texts from Rory that day.


	13. WHAT DO I WANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss uses her alone time to reflect on the past year. She has some regrets.

I'm relieved to have the apartment to myself that night. I use the time to think hard about the past year, and about what I want from a relationship. I'm 32, and I have a sort-of-roommate who's the younger brother of my ex who's getting married to the woman he cheated on me with: Madge, my next-door neighbor. I went through a 'crazy'. period last summer, when I hooked up with a different man every week, mostly so I could deaden the emptiness I felt after Peeta and I broke up. If not for Rory, who's been a stabilizing influence, I have to admit, I'd be really really lonely. And really angry.

Do I see things going further with Rory? I mean, he's two years older than Peeta. He has the same kind of sweetness. But I can't -- really, I can't. I realize I've been ignoring the signs for a while. I just didn't want to think about it, and I was comfortable with him. Can a man and woman really be just friends? I don't know. I guess Rory was was a kind of test case. But now there's this -- tension. I think he knows I know. I can see us gradually becoming distant -- very distant -- friends.

It's been nine months since I last saw Peeta. San Francisco is a small city, you'd think I'd have bumped into him by now. Unless he's actively trying to avoid me. That thought makes my stomach twist. Was I that terrible? I never wanted to be the one who held him back.

I decide I can't deal with all these memories and feelings. I go for some melatonin and CBD-infused sleep.

Next day, Sunday, I catch up with the work on Prim and Octavia's accounts. They're doing really well, they've acquired two new clients in the past week alone. Soon, they'll have to hire a 3rd person to help them with all the legwork. They can afford it; and having someone they can delegate to would make their business grow. I'm happy and content, thinking of my small contribution to their enterprise. Who ever thought my little sister would be such an amazing businesswoman? For that matter, who ever thought that she would have such a stable, happy life? Our childhood years weren't the easiest. Our mother had wild mood swings after our father died -- Gale's taunts about my mood swings really hit home. He made me feel I was turning into my mother.

That was why I relished the relationship I had with Peeta. He relaxed me. I trusted him absolutely -- that is, until Enobaria and Vegas. I realize now that in trying to intervene, I had become an absolute jerk. All he wanted to do was enjoy a stress-free weekend on a fake beach, sipping mojitos with friends. Why did I have to read more into it? I was such a cold bitch to him before he left.

When I'm up-to-date with Prim's account, I relax by turning to _The Great British Baking Show_. For some reason, I feel guilty for watching it when Rory's around. It's a silly show, I don't even bake. Why do I watch? I got hooked on it because of Peeta. Now I hold my breath because the challenge is something called "spicy cake." Who ever heard of such a thing? It sounds disgusting. But the contestants rise to the occasion and make things with chocolate and brandy that have my mouth watering.

I suddenly realize I live in San Francisco, a West Coast food mecca, and I have awful eating habits. I should sign up for a cooking class! And maybe I'd meet someone like Peeta, someone who likes to cook, someone who could teach me things.

I go to bed early. Then I dream. In my dream, Prim's set me up on a blind date. The guy's name is . . . Peeta! He texts me before the date: I "LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOU! Prim sent me your picture. You're so pretty, I love your braid." My dream self gets pretty excited. He seems nice. I hope we hit it off.


	14. THERAPY

"Katniss, do you feel desire?" my therapist, Portia, asks.

I just stare. "What do you mean?" I ask her, my voice turning frosty. Does she think I'm frigid? Is that what she thinks I am? That I'm a cold, cold bitch for leading Rory on and . . .

She helped me a lot after Gale. She helped me to see that Gale and I were codependent and enmeshed. In the beginning, we had good sexual chemistry but he wasn't meeting my needs emotionally. She helped me work through my anger after he confessed to cheating with Madge. She helped me to accept that Gale and I would have broken up anyway, and that I needed to become my own person again.

But now, with Peeta? I must say, the first few times I saw her after the break-up, she seemed very concerned. She kept urging me to call this hotline, and even said I could call her after-hours, she wanted to make sure I was okay.

Like I'm one of those women who'd jump off the Golden Gate Bridge because their partner has left them? And now she's asking me about desire? Most days, it's all I can do to just get my butt into her office.

"I don't know about desire," I mutter.

Actually, desire is right there in my face, every day. It's in Rory's eyes. And it's the sounds Gale and Madge make almost every night. And it's getting really awkward with Rory, but I can't stand to hurt him. He's like . . . a puppy, I guess. Like a pet I've adopted. I'm a terrible person.

"So you don't want to sleep with Rory?" Portia asks me.

"What?" I say. My mouth practically hangs open.

"Why not?" Portia counters. "You don't find him attractive?"

"No, he IS attractive. Very," I say. "But -- no, I do not DESIRE him."

"So, there's no one you've desired . . . in the past year?" Portia presses.

"No," I say. "I'm not looking, anyway. I'm busy."

"It's going to happen one day," Portia says. "I just don't want you to be taken unawares."

It's going to happen? What makes her think it's going to happen? I'm still in love with Peeta!

I stay silent and look at my hands. My fingers knot nervously at the edge of my top. She must think I'm so pathetic, mooning over a boy who doesn't -- can't -- love me.

"You've spent a lot of time here talking about desire," Portia says. "You're very bothered about the . . . intimacy you hear from Gale and Madge. You thought they'd break up and you were very surprised when you found out they were engaged. Do you remember that?"

Ugh. Sometimes I hate coming here. My foot begins to tap nervously on the floor until I realize what I'm doing. Stop it.

"Desire is a part of us . . . " Portia says.

"You know what?" I say, getting up rather quickly. So quickly it seems to startle Portia. "I -- I have to go. I just remembered. Meeting someone. Don't want to be late. Sorry."

I expect her to encourage me to start with the dating apps again. WOW. She must really think I'm pathetic.

"I'm sorry, I seem to have upset you -- " Portia says.

"No, no. Not at all," I say. "I'll be back this time next week. I just -- I have a headache."

"Okay," Portia says, calmly.

"Next week, maybe we could - discuss some relaxation techniques? The situation with Rory's making me really anxious. Not that he's pushy or anything. He's really sweet, but -- "

"Yes, we'll talk about that next week," Portia says. I watch her make a few notes on her pad. "In the meantime, do you remember the mindfulness exercises we worked on, a few months ago? Shall I send you a link to some podcasts?"

"Sure," I say. I know I won't look at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if something stops making sense because I tell ya, I am just churning away at this like I'm a mighty steam engine. I had to read this entire thing from Chapter 1 and there were a few things I forgot. Like how the therapist was a "he" (easy to fix: it's a "she" now)


	15. A LITTLE SEGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Peeta.

I wake, and for a moment I think I'm with Katniss. I'm not, of course. It's just . . . been a while.

I found a small apartment near the gym where I work. It's a studio with an actual kitchen. That was pretty lucky. The gym manager, a woman named Posy, referred me.

In my mind, I go over the things I have to do today. I've been living a pretty isolated life since Katniss and I broke up. For a while, I crashed on a friend's couch. I wanted to see her, but decided I needed to be alone for at least a few months. My feelings are complicated.

I've been avoiding her area. I know somehow I'm at fault. I miss her. God, how I miss her.

But . . . I have a few things to do first.

I'm no longer a dog walker. That day job ended when I got back from Vegas. I sent off a few emails, and luckily, this gym had an opening. I went in for an interview, and Posy interviewed me with her partner, Purnia. They were a cool couple. I did my "personable" shtick and they seemed to buy it. If only they knew. After Vegas, I'm a bit distant. Of course, working here, there are people who regularly check me out, but I put them off by saying I'm in a committed relationship. Which doesn't, actually, feel like that much of a lie.

When I see someone who looks anywhere near Enobaria's age, I hand her off to another trainer. I will not go there again. I have to make art. That's why I'm here, so I can make art. On weekends, I check out the galleries, get familiar with the local ones. Or I go to Golden Gate Park with my sketchbook.

At night, I go home alone. Always. That's my new normal.

I never shower IN the gym. Not since the day someone followed me into the shower. He was naked and just thought he'd join me. Luckily, I was quick and stepped out of the stall before he could take control.

But sometimes, a customer will remind me of Katniss. Maybe it's the dark hair, the set of her chin, the attitude.

Those are the times I reserve for calling Gloss. He knows Katniss and I broke up.

"What happened?" Gloss asked me once. We were at a bar, and I clutched my beer and swallowed before answering. I said, "I went to Vegas with someone." Gloss stares at me with round eyes. "It wasn't like that," I say. "The woman was just a friend."

"You went -- with a woman -- to VEGAS?" Gloss says. He shakes his head. "You are not as innocent as I thought you were!"

"Nothing happened," I insist. It's hard to think about now. The pitch in my stomach.

"So who was the woman?" Gloss asks.

I shake my head, not wanting to offer so much as a name.

"Been seeing anyone new?" he asks, eventually.

"No," I tell him. "I just want to be by myself for a while. Figure things out."

"Hey, you know, I still hang with Prim and Octavia."

"Oh?" I say, my gut twisting a little. I can't fight this feeling -- it's regret. Katniss and I met at Prim's wedding. "How are they doing?"

"Those two are making it," Gloss says. "They're freelance PR. And they just snagged a big account. Some photographer."

"Wow," Peeta says. This is news. "Do you remember the name of the photographer?"

"Oh hell no, art is boring. All I know is, they landed him a big show. I think at the Crocker."

And then everything drops and my face falls. Gloss doesn't see it, though. Thankfully, the bar's too dark. "They're looking to buy their own place."

"Fantastic!" Peeta says, feeling melancholy.

"Well, if you ever feel like going back on the market, I know several women I'm sure would love to meet you."

Peeta shifts. "No, but thank you. I'm trying to focus on . . . just being by myself for now."

"Well, I'm here if you ever change your mind," Gloss says. "San Francisco's got soooo many cute women." Then he offers me some weed. I remember Gloss in Tufts. He was pretty much a walking weed ad. His hair smelled of it. I wonder none of the teachers remarked on it. In San Francisco, he works mostly from his apartment, doing "consulting." But at least no one he works for gives him a hard time about being high so much. When I refuse, Gloss's eyes go round. "You will never get this high quality anywhere else, Peet. What I'm offering here is #1 Purple Kush. Pretty expensive."

After some hesitation, I accept. The world does look better. Fuzzy. Fuzzy means better? When I get back to my place, I lie on the bed instead of painting. Which makes me mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been writing this really fast, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes, since I know there will be some!
> 
> I felt that I needed to answer the mystery of WHAT HAS PEETA BEEN DOING ALL THESE MONTHS? Nothing too exciting, it turns out.


	16. PEETA'S DREAM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Peeta chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these random chapters of Peeta being Peeta!
> 
> I've planted little Easter eggs all over the place. In time, all will be revealed.
> 
> The previous Peeta chapter was hard for me, not sure why. This one just flowed. Maybe I'll make the next chapter his again.

I dream about _her_ again. What else is new? In my dream, I keep telling Gloss to leave so that Katniss and I can make out. But suddenly, someone else's hands are all over her, touching every inch of her body. I wake up before it goes any further, confused and upset.

I call Gloss and ask if he wants to meet up later. He says he can't make it, doesn't give a reason. I suspect he has a date. He's been a little distracted, our last couple of meet-ups. I'm happy for him. San Francisco is the greatest place for easy love. Everyone here seems so open and so willing. Except for me.

I pick up my boogie board and head for Ocean Beach. It's the reason I was so happy to move here from the East Coast. The sun, the sand, the cliffs. A short jog uphill and you're at Land's End. I love it.

It's sunset by the time I get out there. There are a few "regulars" who give me a casual nod. The water's freezing, I can feel it through my thick wetsuit. I fling myself on my board and paddle into the waves. I can stay there till it's dark, till I see bonfires flare on the beach.

No voices in my head. Just the ocean, the sun, the horizon. To be honest, it's not just my regret about Katniss that drives me, but this other voice in my head: my art teacher, Mrs. Dunne. She painted massive canvases of slightly distorted beach scenes. She signed her work "Ripper" -- a name her friends had given her because of the way she rode the waves. She was from southern California, a real beach girl. Then the car accident happened which took away an arm. She eventually learned to surf again. In addition, she started painting. She made a name for herself, got offered the position at Tufts, and that was how I came to be her student.

Mrs. Dunne always told me I had talent. She nurtured me, my last two years in college. Even when my parents were extremely unhappy with my life choices, Mrs. Dunne was always there to tell me she believed in me. When my parents would go after me, telling me there were already too many artists out there for me to make a mark, she said, "But not artists like you, Peeta. You're special."

There's someone on the beach tonight who looks somewhat familiar. He's tall, dark-haired, slim. He reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who. He's not here that often; this might be only the third time I've seen him. He too flings himself straight into the waves. He and I are almost the last people to come ashore, after. He shakes the wet out of his hair and I suddenly remember Gale, Katniss's ex. Which leads me to remember my dream of the man who had his hands all over Katniss. The dream man had dark hair, too. It wasn't Gale, or I would have had some feeling of recognition, even in my dream. It was someone else. Someone like this man on the beach.

I've packed a thermos of tea in my bag. I pour myself a cup and sip, enjoying the hard burn in my calves and arms and shoulders. I'm coming down, slowly. No need for a joint, though I can smell the weed all around me. I head for the parking lot, and then I see him again, heading back too.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" he says.

"Yeah," I say.

Turns out his car is just a few spaces over from mine. It's a beat-up Civic. I watch him get in, the music blasts over the lot. I think it's Drake.

My jeep's equally beat up. The day's coming when I know I have to sell it. Katniss had a free parking space that came with her apartment. She didn't have a car, so it worked out the space became mine. Now I leave my car in Gloss's building, but if he gets another roommate, someone with a car . . . oh well. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hawthornes popping up all over the city of San Francisco! LOL
> 
> Maybe this is getting too "Six Degrees of Separation" . . .


	17. A FRIEND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a chapter of Peeta meeting someone, this was the best I could come up with. Maybe the energy is seeping out of the story? I even considered a quick hook-up with Effie, but felt that, after Enobaria, another older woman would just be too much.

After I stow my stuff back at my place, I decide to go to the bar next door for a quick drink. It's kind of a tiki bar, a little cheesy, but the drinks are cheap, and I'm still disturbed by my dream of last night, the dream of someone with dark hair touching Katniss.

It's 9 p.m., the place is just beginning to fill up. I ask for a pull of beer, and am soon lost in thought, thinking about which galleries I want to drop by this weekend. There's also this possibility I've been considering for a while: taking night art classes from City College. The tuition's reasonable, and the classes count towards an MFA, if I ever get that far. I'll have to see. It's definitely an option. In the meantime, the PACE Gallery has exhibits of student work. I've yet to check them out, but I will.

Someone slips onto the stool next to me, brushing my arm as she does so. I pull back a little. "I'm sorry," she says, flashing me a big grin. I glance quickly to the side, murmuring, "Oh, no problem," and then check myself. Well, hmm. She's kinda cute. She has silver hoop earrings and a halo of curly hair. Her skin is a shade of honey I haven't seen in a long time. Killer smile. "I'm Rue," she says. "Peeta," I say.

Rue says she's from "up north" and after a bit she explains that "up north" is Fort Bragg. I tell her I knew of a Fort Bragg in North Carolina, I never knew there was one here, in California. She giggles, and asks me where I'm from, because I have an accent. I tell her I grew up in New York City, and her eyes grow round.

She asks what brought me all the way here, and I say I had an art teacher who came from southern California and she was a great influence on me. And I was trying to make it as an artist, but hadn't gotten much going, frankly. She nodded, listening carefully the whole time.

After I finish explaining, she asks, "So, do you like it out here? Do you think you might stay? Or will you go back East?"

Here I have to take a deep breath. I have actually entertained thoughts of going back East. Things are taking a whole lot longer than I expected, and the break-up with Katniss certainly didn't help any. I find myself saying, "I think I'll stay."

She gives me a deep, warm smile and says, "I'm glad."

I smile back and say, "I'm glad, too."

She asks if I want to move to one of the outdoor tables, it'll be easier to talk. Less noisy. I readily agree.

I tell her where I work, and she says she's never been there, she's not really the gym type of person. Her apartment's on Stockton, she shares with two other girls, they all came from the same college.

"Where'd you graduate from?" I ask.

She says, "Berkeley," and I tell her, "You must be really smart."

"No, not really," she says.

"I know it's really hard to get in there."

She says it's easier if you apply to a department like hers. I ask her what department that was, and she says, "I was an English major."

Before you know it, it's 11 p.m. I tell her I have to go. She says, "So do I. I kinda lost track of time."

I impulsively say, "Want to meet up again? I promise I'm not a creep. It's just -- I really enjoyed talking to you."

"I'd love to," she says. She gives me her number, and I give her mine.

I'm smiling as I head back to my place. I think I've made a friend.


	18. REGRETS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta's point of view, still. And a little bit of Katniss at the end.

Rue invited me over to her place. We're just friends, we've met up a few times but all we do is talk. For me, it's just a relief to be able to talk to someone, no strings attached. I think she feels the same. We don't have really "big" conversations about the meaning of life, blah blah blah. But we share a sense of humor, we're keeping things "light."

Her roommates are really nice. They all love what they do: teaching. They talk about their experiences with Teach America, and I admire that, because I never felt inclined to teach as a day job. I guess I don't really know what I'm doing at the gym, either. I just kinda fell into it? After meeting Rue's friends, I decide I'll get serious about applying to the art program at City College. To get in, I have to present my best work.

I try not to give in to my feelings about Katniss too much. I think about her, dream about her, almost every day still. It's been -- what, almost a year now? But she was so angry at me about Vegas, and I couldn't tell her -- not right then -- about what happened between me and Enobaria. She'll probably think I'm the stupidest guy in the world, to believe that Enobaria invited me to Vegas out of the goodness of her heart. There were a few trills of anxiety I felt with Enobaria beforehand, but I didn't think she'd actually DO anything. I mean, she's an established, world-famous artist, what would she want to do with me? After Vegas, I shied away from women for a while. It was good I met Rue, who is smart and focused and really open and helps me get out of my head more.

But she doesn't have the same effect on me as Katniss did. It's strange, I've avoided Katniss's part of the city (and of course Enobaria's), but one day I find myself walking to Katniss's apartment. I really, really just want to see her. Maybe explain myself . . .

I wait at the time she usually come home from work. It's a beautiful evening, I see her come out from the BART on Market and Powell. She looks even more beautiful than I remember. Maybe a little thin, thinner than I've ever seen her. But she still wears her hair in a long braid, and she still has that golden-hued skin.

She's frowning, as if she's thinking of a problem at work. She has her earpods, and she's wearing a pencil skirt and a fitted jacket, and she's wearing ratty sneakers. I smile, because I recognize those sneakers. She swaps out her office shoes for them, because she likes to walk fast and her office pumps don't let her. I follow her for a few blocks, just sort of drinking her in. When we're a block away from her building, I make up my mind to approach. I'm a few yards away, she's reached the entrance to her building, I know I have to hurry, to get to her before she punches in her code.

I almost stumble, I;m in such a hurry to get to her. But anyway, she must have eyes in the back of her head or something, because her hand hesitates, and she turns. And just like that, we're facing each other. Her mouth drops open and I don't know how to interpret that look on her face. She isn't angry, but she doesn't look happy to see me, either. Then, a look of pure pain enters her eyes. "Katniss," I say, my voice breaking. She doesn't say my name back. For some reason, she looks . . . terrified?

What does that mean? This is a mistake.

* * *

Peeta showed up. After nearly a year, after months of crying into my pillow and missing him and wondering how things could have been different, and the therapist encouraging a relationship with Rory, Peeta showed up.

Rory and I -- it's not that we're anything, really. He's a lot more relaxed than Gale, he's even gotten me to appreciate TikTok (lol) and weed. We haven't taken our relationship to the next level, but he's in my apartment half the time, and I know he doesn't bother to hide from Gale anymore.

I was in front of my building, about to punch in my code, when -- I don't know -- something made me stop and turn. And there he was, standing a few feet away, looking at me so intensely. My heart broke when he gave me that "let's just be friends" speech nearly a year ago, and now I didn't know whether I wanted to kiss him, punch him, or run as fast as I could away from him. I did wonder, sometimes, if he ended up with Enobaria. I just didn't expect him to show up at my building. Not after all this time.

We just stood and stared at each other. I couldn't seem to formulate a single word, or thought, or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have Rory in this chapter, but it just didn't work out. Maybe in the next.
> 
> I was thinking of adding a Katniss/Rory tag, but decided it was too soon, I still haven't decided how to "grow" their relationship.


	19. TELLING RORY

When I let myself into my apartment, Rory was there, sitting on the couch, strumming something on his guitar. I didn't recognize the song, but anyway he stopped as soon as he looked at my face. "Are you okay?" he said, immediately, putting the guitar to one side.

I was shaking, thinking: _This young man is asking ME if I'M OKAY. There is something wrong. This is not how I imagined myself being, at 33_ (Yes, a birthday did pass after Peeta and I broke up. Time waits for no one) I wasn't sure I should tell Rory, but I found myself saying, "I just saw Peeta."

He was on his feet immediately. Gone was the sunny young man who just moments ago was strumming a song on the guitar. "What? When?"

"Just now," I said. "He was downstairs."

Rory placed both hands on my shoulders and looked earnestly down at me (He's a tad taller than Peeta, wonder why I never noticed before). "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I was just surprised."

"What'd he say?" Rory asked. He wasn't demanding or angry. He seemed genuinely concerned about my emotional well-being.

"I need a drink," I said, beginning to pull away.

"I'll get it," Rory said. "Sit down."

"There's Yuengling in the fridge," I said.

Rory didn't bother answering. Of course he knew there was Yuengling in the fridge. He lived here! Practically lived here, I meant. He came back with two bottles, sat next to me on the couch, and looked earnestly at me. "What happened?" he asked.

"He was just -- there, you know? I think he waited for me. He looked like he wanted to have a long talk. But I said it wasn't a good time."

Rory nodded. "You didn't tell him I was here."

"No . . . " Katniss said. "He would have jumped to the wrong conclusions. I don't know . . . "

Rory was silent for a few beats. Then he sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "He didn't -- he didn't give the impression he wanted to come back? I mean, that's so weird, his showing up like that."

"Oh, no. He said he just wanted to talk. To explain."

"Explain what?" Rory said. NOW he sounded angry.

"Explain what happened. Vegas. You know."

"Well did he explain it?"

"No, no . . . he could see I was uncomfortable. I told him it wasn't a good time. So he asked if we could set a time to meet, to talk." I paused. Telling Rory all this felt . . . wrong.

"And?" Rory said. "ARE you going to see him again? Do you WANT to see him again?"

I looked away. I shrugged. "Guess so . . . "

"Hey," Rory said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "Don't act like that. I support you. I'm glad he and you are going to talk."

I gave Rory a wan smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Rory could tell something from the way Katniss acted after seeing Peeta.


	20. A DECISION IS MADE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is def a Rory/Katniss moment. Lemons or whatever! This chapter will break about half of you but make the other half happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming clean: I kept the chapter short because it was hard. Can't even re-read. There's a little bit of Peeta at the end.

Rory's looking at me so intently. It strikes me that I've been looking at his face for over half a year. Because of Rory, I stopped what was my self-destructive phase, when I lived for dating apps. I had no shortage of available partners, I did it all so that I could get over the pain of what happened between me and Peeta.

I put up my right hand, and with two fingers I brush Rory's cheek. "Thank you," I say. "Thank you for listening. I've been subjecting you to my drama for too long. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Rory whispers. He slides closer and places an arm around me. I cling to him. He's warm, and soft, and his warmth calms me. I take a deep breath. I lift my head a little, so that our faces are close to each other. I wonder if I can really do this, with Rory. Am I being fair to him? I've just seen Peeta, of course I'm a mess. Doesn't Rory deserve better?

Yes, yes he does.

"Rory," I say. "You've been such a good friend. I want you to know, I really appreciate it."

He leans forward and kisses me. For a moment, I tense. Then my hands slip to his shoulders. He moves closer so that our chests are touching. Slowly, I slide back on the couch. We kiss intensely for a while, then slowly, I'm stretched out full length on the couch, and Rory's on top of me. His hands start moving down, to my skirt, and I yank it up; I want to feel him. He reaches for his pants and unbuttons them. I can feel the length of him, and it feels so good. We're still kissing, it feels like we'll never stop. My hands wander down, to the waistband of his boxers. "Off," I say.

And, you know, I can't really say I'm sorry for what happens next.

Later, as I lie in bed -- our bed, now -- I think back to what happened between Peeta and me. I loved him so much. But I've moved on. How strange that seeing Peeta again clarified my thinking about Rory. I snuggle closer into Rory's warm body. I don't know how long we can be like this, but for right now I'm content.

* * *

I'm walking away from Katniss's apartment, thinking: Aren't you being a little silly, Peeta? She was surprised to see you, of course. Did you really expect her to be happy to see you? Expect her to jump into your arms? One year was a long time ago, and you never gave her any indication you wanted to work on your relationship. Is it time to LET HER GO?

I know what I'm doing tonight: I'm headed to that tiki bar. And I do intend to get very, very drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought about this a lot. In the end, I decided, this was where all the Rory stuff was going, and even if it's a mistake, she has to try.
> 
> Now, it's Peeta's move. Does he want to keep trying with Katniss, or should he close that door? 
> 
> It's so strange but that Peeta section (super-short) sounds as if he KNEW what was going on with Katniss and Rory. He doesn't, of course, but I knew and it's affecting how I write Peeta. Like, I can't write him as happy and carefree now, now he has to be perpetually sad. Which is BAD!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story takes place either pre-pandemic or in a more hopeful post-pandemic world (which is why Enobaria can bring her entourage to Vegas)


End file.
